Nothing Like The Real Thing
by acertainzest
Summary: Maybe she shouldn't have been so hasty in turning down the dinner and debriefing. Was it too late to change her mind? A silly little FFYG insert for your entertainment.


_Hi everyone! It's my birthday, so here's a silly little present for you. I mentioned this concept in passing in a recent story, and it stuck in my mind, so I decided to let it out. I hope you enjoy it._

 _By the way, if you haven't already checked out the Castle Season 9 fanfic project, please do! (Use the search box and search for username CastleSeason9.)_

* * *

Kate Beckett sat on her couch, alone in her quiet apartment. She had a glass of wine in her hand and her new copy of _Storm Fall_ in her lap, its cover closed as she mulled over the events of the past few days.

Never in her wildest imagination would she have predicted that her job would bring her into contact with her favorite author - let alone that he would end up accompanying her for an entire investigation. It had certainly been a surprising turn of events, and not nearly as unwelcome as she had let on. She would never, never admit it, but working with Castle on the case had been a lot of fun.

And it didn't hurt that he was seriously hot. Here and now, in the solitude of her home, with the wine warming her belly and the case safely wrapped up, she took a moment to wonder whether she had been too hasty in turning down his offer of dinner. Yes, she knew where he had intended that dinner to go; he hadn't gone to much trouble to hide his desires. But would that really have been such a bad thing? Even if she had ended up on Page Six? Maybe it would have been worth it.

Oh well. She would never know, she told herself with a shrug. Her brief brush with celebrity was over; time to get back to real life.

On that thought, she tipped the last drops of wine into her mouth and uncurled her legs from underneath her, preparing to get up. But just as her feet hit the floor, a knock sounded on her door, firm and confident.

Who could that be? She wasn't expecting anyone.

Cautiously, she made her way over to the door and put her eye to the peephole.

"Castle?"

He grinned cheerfully at her surprise when she opened the door. "Good evening, Detective. I'm here to pick you up for dinner."

"What?" She stared at him, confounded. "I didn't say yes."

"I know." He shrugged. "But I had taken the liberty of making a reservation, so I thought I'd come by and see if I could convince you to change your mind."

Beckett pulled her lower lip between her teeth, considering.

The arrogance of the man! It was unbelievable. But then again... she _had_ been at least halfway regretting her choice.

And she was never going to see him again. The case was closed; their short-lived collaboration was done. So what the hell?

Reaching out, she grabbed Castle by the lapels of his blazer and pulled him over the threshold into her apartment, lifting up on the balls of her feet to press her mouth against his.

He gave a short grunt of surprise, but almost immediately responded, his hands coming up to grip her hips, his mouth opening. His tongue was ready to meet hers and she groaned fervently at the contact.

"Forget dinner," she gasped against his lips. "Let's skip straight to the debriefing."

Castle spun her around and pinned her to the closed door with his body, pressing himself against her deliciously. His nose nudged into the curve of her cheek, tongue sneaking out to taste her neck, making her shiver.

"Or deboxering, as the case may be," he husked against her skin, his voice throaty with desire but tinged with amusement. "I never wear briefs. Too confining."

"Mm," she murmured, letting her head fall back against the door as he nibbled his way up her neck. Her whole body was flushed with arousal and she pressed her hips unashamedly against his. "I'm not wearing any briefs either," she added, grinning wickedly.

"Oh?" One of Castle's wandering hands moved downward, dipping below the waistband of her yoga pants. His wide, nimble fingers encountered only flesh beneath the pants, and she hissed softly with pleasure when he gave her ass a quick squeeze.

He pulled back to look at her face, raising his eyebrows with a grin. "And what about up here?" he asked, holding her gaze as he brought his hand back around to the front, sliding it boldly up underneath her t-shirt. Beckett gasped and arched into him, enjoying the way his eyes flashed when he found her unencumbered by any bra.

"Too confining," she threw his own words back at him, and he chuckled softly in appreciation.

"Why, Detective Beckett, you do have some 'cops gone wild' in you after all," Castle teased. She could only moan in response as his warm palm engulfed one breast, rubbing the nipple between his fingers until it was almost painfully tight.

"Castle," she gasped, flinging her t-shirt aside and wrapping her arms around his shoulders, pushing her fingers into his hair, "shut up and take me to bed already."

"I thought you'd never ask," he growled, and they stumbled to the bedroom, kissing and groping the whole way. The touch of his lips was intoxicating - she already felt almost light-headed from it.

By the time they reached Beckett's bed, Castle's blazer was long gone, his shirt mostly unbuttoned, and his carefully groomed hair wildly tousled from her ministrations. But she stopped him just as he was about to push her down onto the bed.

"Wait," she commanded, and for once he obeyed, gazing at her with equal parts confusion and naked, undisguised lust.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she denied, biting her lip again, this time just because she knew it drove him crazy. "I just need to make sure you're going to behave." And she turned to her bedside table, opening the drawer and pulling out her police-issue handcuffs.

Castle's eyes widened, and his lips curved upward in anticipation. "My safeword is apples," he rasped, and in an instant he whipped his shirt off and lay down on the bed, lifting his arms toward the headboard.

Beckett reached over, her bared breasts jiggling lightly as she quickly threaded the cuffs through the bars of the headboard and attached them to his wrists.

"Do your worst, Detective," he said, giving that infuriatingly sexy smirk again. "Or should I say your best? This is so much nicer than that time you cuffed me in your car."

"Castle, shut _up_. Do I need to gag you too?" she grumbled, rolling her eyes. It was all for show; she had in mind a much better use for his mouth.

But first, she needed to get a look at what was making that impressive bulge in his pants. She leaned down, reaching for the button...

Suddenly Beckett sat bolt upright, sucking in a startled gasp, blinking fuzzily in the dim light of her living room. Castle's book had fallen to the floor, and the wine glass had slipped from her hand and onto her lap. Fortunately, it had already been empty. The uncomfortable dampness in her panties had an entirely different provenance.

"Oh God," she said aloud, blinking rapidly as the cobwebs cleared and the details of the dream came rushing back. Even though she was entirely alone, she blushed fiercely in the low light. She hadn't had a dream that vividly erotic since... well, maybe never.

She uncurled her legs from underneath her and picked up the book, putting it on the coffee table. After rinsing the wine glass, she went on into her bedroom and sat on the bed, embarrassment warring with arousal in her wine-fuzzed brain.

She reached over and opened the drawer of the bedside table. Unlike in the dream, she didn't keep her handcuffs there (what a ridiculous notion!), but she did have a very trustworthy little battery-powered toy. It was purple, just the right size, curved in just the right way, and the silicon material felt smooth as silk under her fingers when she took it out of the drawer.

She hesitated only a moment longer, telling herself, _Why the hell not?_ She was never going to see him again, and no one would ever know.

She lifted her legs onto the bed and leaned back against the headboard, letting herself sink back into the delicious mental image of Rick Castle naked and cuffed to her bed, right here where she was sitting. She pictured the sweat that would sheen his skin, the passionate glint in his eye, the way his muscles would shift under the skin as he tugged at the restraints. She began to imagine all the ways she would tease him, straddling his hips but not touching any part of his body with any part of hers, not until she was ready. She imagined his tongue...

She switched on the vibrator and closed her eyes.

* * *

The next morning, her boss called her into his office and dropped two bombs in a row. She had barely even begun to process the concept of Castle writing a book based on her, when the man himself appeared in the doorway. She was _sure_ that both Castle and Montgomery could see the way her cheeks reddened as she struggled not to let her mind drift back to the extremely satisfying fantasy that she had indulged in the previous night. She had never been so embarrassed in her entire life.

At least - she comforted herself as she stalked out of the captain's office with Castle on her heels, utter mortification translating to an angry scowl and the sharp rap of her shoes on the precinct floor - at least he didn't know. He couldn't possibly. And as long as it never happened again - which it absolutely, definitely wouldn't, she vowed to herself right then and there - he would never, ever find out.

That vow lasted barely twelve hours. But it took four and a half years before she told him.

* * *

 _Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this story, you might enjoy its companion piece, Nothing But The Truth, which you can find on my profile. :)_


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